Pretty in Pink
by glitterypony
Summary: Two separated childhood friends, one pinky promise. When Mikan Sakura, now a famous celebrity, meets her old childhood friend, will that promise be fulfilled? Or will hearts be broken? AU. DISCONTINUED.
1. Prologue

**disclaimer: **HAHA. no, i do not own gakuen alice. (sad face)

**warning: **this is un-beta-ed. moreover, english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for any errors there may be in here.

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><p><strong>Pretty in Pink<br>**_one . prologue_

"_You smiled at me and touched my heart.__  
><em>_I knew right then, that maybe we'd never be apart."_

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><p><em>i. hello, sunshine.<em>

She was seven and naïve; he was nine and broody.

"Hi, what's your name?"

Mikan Sakura grinned with anticipation as she proudly stood over the dozing boy's still form, one dainty pale hand outstretched toward him. Under the sheltering boughs of the Sakura tree, the boy's eyes were closed tightly, and a giddy feeling of awe flowed through her body as she studied the way his long, sooty eyelashes brushed the highs of his cheekbones. His breathing was even as he leaned against the slightly damp bark, legs stretched in front and his hands clasped together on his lap. He looked peaceful, especially with the few fallen cotton candy pink petals surrounding his unmoving form, making him somewhat resemble a sleeping angel.

The idea that she might be disturbing his peaceful slumber did not occur to her at the moment, and her wide smile continued to hang on her heart-shaped face as she wiggled her fingers in mid-air, expecting the slumbering male in front of her to just detect her presence and respond to her.

When he remained unresponsive and oblivious to her, her smile faded and the hand she had held out flopped down to her side with a muffled thump. The area between her eyebrows bunched together in annoyance and mild curiosity. She shifted her weight between her left and right foot, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable.

"Hello?" she tried again loudly, bending over a little to peer closely at his face. A light breeze strolled by, unlatching a sakura petal from its place in a branch above the two children. It made its way downward from the tree, brushing Mikan's small nose along its trek. The little girl sneezed inelegantly and rubbed her nose, sniffling lightly at the itch that formed with the small petal's contact with her skin.

Her thin, pink lips curved into a pouty frown.

"Hey!" Mikan exclaimed, securing her hold on the still boy's shoulders, shaking him roughly back and forth to the point that his head rocked front-to-back repeatedly and hit the bark behind him.

A soft hiss of pain emanated from the now-conscious boy's mouth, and he jolted awake, senses alert and on guard. He looked about his surroundings and his tensed muscles went lax in relief as he realized there was no harm—until his eyes landed on the doe-eyed girl by his side.

"Who the hell are you?" he all but spat as he raised a hand to rub at the forming bump on the back of his aching head. The sharp bark had slightly dug into the skin of his scalp—it would be very, very sore later on, he thought with a scowl.

The girl did not respond as she stared at him, captivated. This boy—this _breathtaking, handsome _boy's eyes—she couldn't take her eyes off of them. Large, almost-glowing crimson orbs peered (accusingly) at her through long, dark, fanned-out eyelashes, causing a warm heat to spread across her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

After a few fleeting seconds, she kneeled down in front of him, supporting her weight on bare knees that peeked out from under her yellow sundress and the palms of her hands.

Then, her face broke into a large smile.

"Hi! I'm Mikan Sakura!" she chirped, enveloping his cold hands in her soft, warm ones. Her chocolate orbs gleamed with evident excitement, and her cheekbones looked as if they would pop out of her skin any moment now from her big, big smile.

The boy snorted and looked to the side, tugging his hands free. She sucked in a soft breath of protest at his discomfort, but let go nevertheless. His now slightly warm hand tingled with an unidentifiable feeling, one that made the tiny hairs on his fingers stand up—one that he did not like.

"Go away," he grunted.

"Aw, but why?"

"You're annoying."

"What! That's mean!" she pouted, puffing a breath of air through her open mouth. A brief moment of silence passed between the two of them, but Mikan broke the silence, unable to resist asking, "What's your name?"

The boy slanted a lazy gaze at her.

"Natsume," he replied nonchalantly, stretching his arms to their maximum length to loosen up the muscles. He felt a satisfying pop just at his elbows, and proceeded to roll his head to sooth his neck muscles. "Hyuuga."

"Oh." Mikan's small lips curved into a sincere smile as she greeted, "Hi Natsume!"

"Hn."

"What were you doing here under this tree?"

"Napping, before you came a disrupted me with your pig voice."

"Hey! …hey, would you like to join our?" The girl hesitantly gestured behind her. When Natsume turned to follow her finger, he saw an old man—her grandfather, he surmised—situated on a clearing of grass between two trees, a red blanket sandwiched between his bottom and the ground. A little violet-eyed girl sat next to him. The duo was happily munching on food, the elder eating a sandwich, the young one eating an odd jar of what looked like organs.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

"But you're alone! Hotaru and ojii-san will let you picnic with us."

"My family will be back. They just went to buy some drinks."

"Come on, Natsume!" She tugged on his arm, using all of her strength to pull him up to his feet after jumping up herself. "Let's go! I'm hungry!"

His brows drew together in irritation.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Polka."

She flushed an intense tomato-red.

"NATSUME!"

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><p><em>ii. see? you couldn't push me away.<em>

She was nine and dedicated; he was almost-eleven and still irritable.

She was an aggravation.

Wherever he went, she would follow with unsuppressed glee, never failing to have a blindingly bright grin hang on her face every instant. He, on the other hand, never failed to let a dark frown mar his dear features whenever she was around; it was an unavoidable habit that she somehow always elicited—he wasn't sure why though. Perhaps it was the way her _annoying, childish _pigtails flew about her head unrestrainedly whenever she made bouncy steps. Perhaps it was the way her short, short, short legs peeked out distractingly from underneath her plaid uniform skirt whenever she ran to keep up with his long strides. Perhaps it was the way the center of her little girl cheeks dinted with every smile she donned. Perhaps it was the way her hazel eyes gleamed with uninhibited enthusiasm each time they landed on him.

Perhaps it was the way the way his normally steady, sedate heartbeat faltered minutely during their many encounters together.

The girl was peculiar; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get under her skin, figure her out the way he did with other people. She was an abstract puzzle, one that made his head hurt when he tried to piece the parts together.

She irked him, made his insides squirm, made his head woozy.

She ignited unfamiliar feelings within him, clouded his ten year-old mind with foreign thoughts.

He hatedhated_hated _it.

Even with his genius (as others called it) mind, he was unable to comprehend—_what _was it about her that made him like that?

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><p><em>iii. you'll be the prince and i'll be the princess.<em>

"Natsume, guess what?"

Here she went again.

Natsume sighed from beneath the black-and-white pages of his manga book, and then removed it to place it on the dry grass beside him. He blinked his focusing eyes, shaking his head once, twice, thrice to chase away the last vestiges of his nap.

"What." It wasn't a question; more like a demand that slipped rudely out of his mouth on reflex. His eyes fixed on a spot in the distance. Somehow, he lacked the ability to look at her.

"Narumi-sensei gave me a book!" she squealed happily, bouncing up and down on the ground despite her kneeling posture. Her hands rose up in the air, clutching a red book. Natsume surveyed the cover.

_William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, _it read.

He snorted gruffly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's a stupid story."

"What! No it's not—_you're _stupid, Natsume," Mikan reprimanded indignantly, stashing the criticized object behind her back. After a few moments of silence, she huffed out a breath of air and took it out again, flipping through its crinkled and aged pages with care and gentleness.

Chocolate eyes crinkled in glee as they scanned over the Times New Roman text of the book.

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night," she recited ecstatically as she snapped the book shut. A dreamy sigh escaped her parted lips. "This sounds so romantic. Hey, Natsume?"

"Hn."

"Would you say those lines to me? Am I beautiful?" she laughingly asked, fixing bright, sheening eyes on his face.

His mouth pressed into a tight line.

Would he?

He chuckled inwardly.

"…no."

But somewhere deep inside the dark abyss in his chest, he couldn't help but feel that maybe—just _maybe, _he was lying.

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><p><em>iii. pinky promises are forever.<em>

"Aw, come on!" she whined, taking hold of his _(warm) _hand. "Don't be such a meanie."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No." He made an attempt to jerk his hand free of her hold, but it proved to be futile when she simply tightened her grip. "Let go."

"Not until you promise me that you'll confess to me like that," she stated.

His molars grinded together at the thought of having to do such a stolid thing, but if he didn't promise her, she wouldn't give up. "…fine," he bit out, "now let go."

"Yay!"

Her grip did not loosen. He tugged his hand, but instead of releasing it, she molded it into a fist with his pinky finger sticking out. She did the same thing, her pinky pointed proudly in the air.

She hooked it around his.

"That's a pinky promise!"

A snort sounded from Natsume. _Pinky promises? _They didn't exist, and neither was his vow to her. He merely promised her to cease her pestering.

That was all.

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><p><em>iv. tell me what's wrong so i can try to fix you.<em>

She was eleven and too-kind; he was thirteen and troubled.

"Natsume, what's wrong?" Mikan asked out of the blue, pausing her TV show to assess his features more intently. "You seem out of it today."

He opened his eyes, revealing a pair of misted ruby orbs. He sighed.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? Are you okay?"

"Shut up, Polka."

"Natsume!"

"Oh, I mean, _Strawberry._"

"Natsume!" She pounced at him, playfully swatting at him with her small hands.

He blocked her attacks and commanded in a stern voice, "Stop."

"Hmph, fine. But what's wrong, really?"

"Nothing."

"Why won't you tell me?" She pouted her coral-pink lips and crossed her arms, feigning anger.

"Because. Just drop it."

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><p><em>v. all we—i—know is falling apart.<em>

She was twelve, still innocent and loyal; he was fourteen, troubled and reluctant.

"What?" Mikan's voice was small; a pitiful, high-pitched sound at the back of her throat that made him wince and feel numb.

"I…" He struggled for the words to speak. Just say it, dammit! "I—I have to leave." The words came out quietly, breathlessly, and he was unable to fathom why. Suddenly, a painful sensation seized his chest area, and he clutched it to soothe the suspicious discomfort. Where had that come from?

Natsume made an effort to pace out his uneven breaths, inhaling and exhaling at even intervals. Once he was sure everything felt right, he chanced a hesitant glance toward his _acquaintance (not friend—she's not my friend), _wincing slightly at the troubled expression on her face. A jolt of guilt coursed through his small stomach and made him lightheaded.

"…_what?" _the little girl asked in a weak breath, her innocent, milky brown orbs wide in unconcealed terror. Dainty, stubby fingers trembled in escalating anxiety as their owner locked her wavering gaze onto the young raven-haired teen in front of her. "Natsume?" she inquired.

She stepped forth a step, nearing him.

He winced again and quickly stepped away from her, to her consternation.

"Natsume?"

He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and willed himself to speak.

"I said," he mumbled quietly, inexplicably unable to get his tongue to function normally, "I'm leaving."

This was it; he'd told her.

"What?" she gasped. _"Why?"_

"It's…none of your concern," he bit out, harsher than he'd originally intended. "Don't ask."

Mikan seemed unconvinced. "It's…your family, isn't it? Are you guys in trouble?"

"No." _No._

"You guys need money?" She looked at him earnestly, eyes gleaming with sympathy and affection.

His chest swelled.

"_Tell me," _she urged, _pleaded. "Please, _Natsume."

His determination faltered.

And gave in.

"…we're bankrupt," he began calmly, slowly, calculating his words. "And we're moving to America so my parents can find a new job."

Mikan's eyes widened more, if that were possible, and she brought a hand to her quivering mouth.

"Will—will you come back?" she questioned hopefully. "You will come back—right?"

This was the hard part.

"…no," he replied dejectedly, and began to move away from her.

It was time to leave—time to let go for the future.

"I'm—" _sorry, _he was about to say, but could not. Instead, he said, "I'm going now," and pivoted on his heel, weaving his way through the silent streets to go home and prepare for their flight.

"Goodbye," he called softly over his shoulder. _Goodbye, Mikan._

He swore he could hear her broken sobs and the click-clacks of her shoes chasing after him, even amidst the ghastly winter wind of that night.

Still, he refused to turn back.

He sped up his pace and quickly turned into a dark alley, one that he knew she would be too afraid to walk in, and sprinted home.

Away from her.

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><p><strong>author's note: <strong>i posted this up already before, but decided against it because i wasn't sure where i wanted to go with it quite yet. but i've thought over this a bit, and why not? this chapter is just a prologue. while it may not hint much at the plot, it does lay out a brief overview of where the characters are at right now, you feel me? lol. i have already started working on chapter one; when i finish and post it will depend on the feedback that this prologue gets.

**beta: **i'm still looking for a beta. D: if anyone is interested, please PM me or drop a review. thank you!

please review on your way out. reviews make me inspired and push me to write more. the more reviews and feedback this gets, the quicker i am to update. constructive criticism is welcomed, but please put it in a polite and as nice as possible way. thanks for reading! (:


	2. Depend

**disclaimer: **if i owned gakuen alice, you'd be watching stick figures awkwardly poking each other.

**warning: **this is un-beta-ed. moreover, english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for any mistakes in here.

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><p><strong>Pretty in Pink<br>**_one . depend_

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><p>Mikan sighed for the umpteenth time that morning, a thick vein protruding from a spot slightly above her right temple as she glared at an unfortunate spot on the coffee table in front of her.<p>

_Where is Hotaru? _she thought vehemently, gritting her teeth in frustration. She then ceased the action, as it was beginning to make her jaw ache.

Sighing again in utter boredom and crossing her left leg over her right, the twenty-two year-old woman crossed her arms across her chest and slumped against the back of the leather armchair she was currently seated in. Her fatigue-clouded eyes lazily scanned the space of the large waiting room, searching for something to keep her busy. When her efforts proved futile, she glared upward and pouted, jutting her glossed lips out to blow a lock of brown hair out of her face. Her newly-manicured fingernails tapped impatiently on the skin of her forearm as she waited for her best friend-slash-manager to finish her little meeting.

_Tch. 'Little' my ass. She's been in there for nearly an hour already!_

She silently prayed for their meeting to finish soon; her stomach was grumbling torturously and her back had begun to ache from sitting in that armchair for such a long period of time.

Then, as if someone up there had heard her desperate pleas, the door to the meeting room swung open, and two people stepped out—one was Mikan's best friend, a petite raven-haired woman with limpid amethyst eyes; the other was an employee at Ruby Productions—a polite, slightly shy blonde-haired man with the brightest pair of sky-blue orbs Mikan had ever seen.

"Hotaru!" the brunette squealed, standing immediately and rushing over to the two people. She lunged through the air at the woman; arms spread, fully intent on tackling said woman into a bone-crushing and affectionate hug. Her actions were halted as she soared mid-air, however, for a giant flyswatter appeared out of nowhere and smacked her square in the face, sending her flying back the way she came. She crashed into a painful heap next to the coffee table.

"Hotaru…" the brunette sobbed, cupping her swelling cheek as rivulets of fresh tears flowed freely down her face. "How?" she mumbled. "How could y—"

"Mikan." The simple utterance of her name ceased the injured woman's cries. Stitching back her composure, the chocolate-haired celebrity stood up, brushed off the dust on her sundress, and walked (politely and sanely this time) up to the duo, grinning cheekily.

"Ahaha!" she laughed embarrassedly whilst scratching the back of her neck when she noticed the stupefied expression on the blonde's face. "Sorry! I lost myself for a moment there."

Hotaru sighed.

"Mikan," she called again, "this is Ruka Nogi. He's the vice president of Ruby Productions."

"Oh! Hello, Ruka!" Mikan greeted sweetly, her friendly personality automatically making her regard the vice president by his first name. She held out a dainty hand. "I'm Mikan Sakura, nice to meet you!"

Unfazed by her familiarity, Ruka smiled; an angelic upturn of his lips, and shook her hand gently.

"Likewise, Sakura-san."

"Oh! You can just call me Mikan, or my stage name!"

The azure-eyed man blinked, unsure.

"…which is?"

"Ah," Hotaru interjected, "I forgot to tell you, Nogi. Mikan's stage name is Ayaka Mori. It would be best if you could address her as such in public. Otherwise, you may address her as Mikan privately."

"I see. Likewise, Mori-san," Ruka said, the soft smile still hanging upon his lips.

Mikan gave a slight tilt of her head and smiled before turning to Hotaru; a graceful twirl that made tendrils of auburn hair float in the air.

"So are you done yet, Hotaru?"

"Yes; we should head back now. I'll tell you what we discussed over lunch," Hotaru suggested, glancing at the numbers on her thin watch. "I'm hungry."

With a half-hearted wave, she bid their new acquaintance goodbye and pulled Mikan along by her forearm.

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><p>Lunch with Hotaru was always something to look forward to, Mikan mused silently to herself as she sat at the large dining table in Hotaru's kitchen, patiently waiting for the food to be finished so she could tame the animalistic growling of her empty stomach already.<p>

While waiting, she leaned forward on her chair, propping her elbows atop the polished redwood surface of the table and crossing her arms. As if by reflex, her legs crossed and she placed her chin on top of her arms, vaguely resembling a sulking little girl.

Curiously, her eyes flitted back and forth between various items inside Hotaru's home, as her seat at the dining table provided her with a decently clear view of the living room.

She studied the vast interior with amusement. Everything was so plain—from the simple beige walls to the boring, black-and-white themed furniture set—_everything. _Mikan had the impulse to bang her forehead repeatedly on the table at the _boringness _of it all. Everything was so simplistic—so colorless and bland, unlike what Mikan liked. And the layout of the place was simplistic, as well—it was _just there. _The living room, dining table, kitchen, and hallway with the bedrooms and such were all interconnected and clear to the eye; no complexity.

She sighed—it was so Hotaru. Straight to the point and blunt. She supposed it was also because of Hotaru's occupation as her agent, too—since she herself wasn't a celebrity, she figured she didn't need such luxurious living conditions, unlike Mikan.

A glass jar on top of the coffee table caught her attention—filled with fresh crab brains and liquid to the brim. Mikan scoffed (after swallowing back some of her throw-up); sometimes, she really wondered how she and Hotaru became best friends. Though they shared deep affection for each other (almost like sisters), their personalities, likes, and dislikes were nearly entirely different.

Then, she ran her eyes over Hotaru's fireplace; at the picture frames and accessories adorning the smooth tile surface. Hotaru, though she might not look it on the exterior, was a passionate photographer, and Mikan knew she loved to take photographs and store them for memories and decoration. Chocolate orbs melted and warmed as they briefly perused the many photos lining the top of the fireplace—they seemed to depict a timeline. The pictures showed their beginning—when they first met at age three—all the way up to today, when they had both grown up already.

Mikan smiled to herself as she caught sight of a clear glass photo frame—it held a photo taken on their high school graduation day. In the picture, she and Hotaru—both dressed in dashing royal blue graduation caps and gowns—held onto each other and looked directly at the camera, content expressions on their faces. Mikan had adorned a cheeky grin; while Hotaru, expectedly, went with a smallsmallsmall smile.

The brunette sighed and allowed her mind to drift into her memories.

They had graduated together from the same school (obviously) just over five years ago, and that day had been an important in their history with each other. It was one of the happiest moments in Mikan's life, as it signified another milestone she had overcome, and with Hotaru, too—that made it all the better. It also served as a reassurance to her about their friendship; they made it as far as the end of high school—it seemed safe to think that they would spend a much longer time together, too, after that. Knowing that she had plenty more years to spend with Hotaru gave her a warming feeling of security and trust inside; a feeling that made her face break out in a wide smile.

"What are you grinning like an idiot for?" a monotonous voice broke her thoughts. Mikan's head snapped to the doorway of the kitchen, and her eyes landed on the aforementioned best friend. She was wearing a frilly pink apron around her waist, hands tucked in oven mittens and each holding a plate of fresh spaghetti and eating utensils.

"Nothing," Mikan beamed as Hotaru made her way to the seat in front of her at the dining table. "It's just that I was looking at your photos there—" she gestured to the fireplace, "—and it made me happy remembering all the times we've spent together." Her lips still held a gentle curve as she finished, looking as Hotaru's eyes softened.

The raven-haired woman mumbled, "Baka." Despite this, a minuscule smile of her own played at her lips as she settled down and laid a plate of spaghetti in front of her and Mikan, and took off her oven mittens. Grabbing a silver fork, she lifted a forkful of noodles and threw the brunette a look. "Eat," she intoned, "I made it myself."

Mikan's grin widened as she, too, took hold of a utensil and dug in. With a satisfied expression and a mouth stained with tomato sauce, she exclaimed, "Wow, Hotaru! This is delicious!"

"Baka," Hotaru muttered again, rolling her eyes at the childish woman's antics. "Wipe your mouth."

Mikan complied. After cleaning up the area around her mouth, she blinked curiously at the woman before her. "Mou, Hotaru." Said woman glanced at her stoically and patiently waited for her to continue. "What did you and Ruka discuss this morning?"

Hotaru paused eating and blinked herself; once, twice. She placed her fork down on her plate slowly and licked her lips before answering. "I got you a new contract."

"A new contract?"

She nodded. "Since your previous one with that other production company is over. Actually, it's not for certain yet. We still have some things to wrap up with Ruby Productions."

"Hm… When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Mikan repeated with a slight tilt of her head. "Alright."

"You're going to be meeting someone else, too," Hotaru added. "He's the president of Ruby Productions. So put on your best look tomorrow and don't act like a baka. Baka."

Mikan smiled through a mouthful of spaghetti and nodded obediently. "I won't, don't worry. Hotaru, what's his name?"

"I didn't ask."

"Do you know what he's like?" the woman asked.

Hotaru responded with a slow shake of her head. "I heard he's very wealthy and popular with the ladies. Probably another playboy," she added with a small snort, "and I heard he has black hair and red, or brown—I don't know—eyes."

"Red… or brown?" The brunette froze, dropping her metal fork onto her glass plate with a sharp _clang! _She blinked once, and another time, as if to clear her head. "Red or brown?" she queried again. An image of a childhood acquaintance flashed into her mind, and she felt numb.

The amethyst-eyed female studied her reaction with close attention. Narrowing her eyes, she admonished, "Stop, Mikan."

Startled, Mikan broke out of her reverie and gazed at her best friend with a shocked expression. "…what?" she breathed shakily.

"Don't think about him. It's probably not him anyway." She reached over and clasped a hand around the brunette's, silently giving her support and comfort in the Hotaru way.

Mikan blinked, then shook her head rapidly. A determined and fierce gleam glowed in her chocolate orbs. "You're right," she muttered as she grasped her fork once again and began shoveling spaghetti into her mouth at a quick speed, "I shouldn't be thinking about that."

A smile graced the lips of the other woman as she resumed eating, too, with an approving nod.

After Mikan finished (naturally, she finished eating before Hotaru did, what with the inhuman speed she consumed her food at), she stood up, padded over to the sink to dispose of her dirty dish and utensil, and walked back to Hotaru to say goodbye.

"Hotaru, I'm gonna go back to my place first," she notified, chancing a glance at the circular clock Hotaru hung at the wall. "It's nearly three; I should get going and rest for tomorrow."

"I'll drive you tomorrow. Baka."

Mikan laughed and nodded her head, heading out the door after bidding Hotaru goodbye with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.

Feeling the refreshing breeze tickle her skin, Mikan sighed and disguised her face with her handy-dandy sunglasses and floral scarf. After securing the glasses on her nose and tightening the thin scarf around the lower half of her face, she began walking in the direction of her home at a lazy pace; it had been a while since she last went on a relaxing stroll, anyway.

* * *

><p>By the time the young celebrity got home, it was already around six in the evening. She had taken nearly three entire hours to walk back to her house—a risky decision on her part, as she could have been cornered by the paparazzi or fans and whatnot, but she regretted none of it. The walk had left her with a calm feeling; the rush of air in the open streets sobered up her senses and mind, and overall relaxed her.<p>

However, home was not a bad place to be, either. Mikan's house was located just a short distance out of the city—away from the public, unlike Hotaru's smaller house. It was a large house; one of those model homes that people commonly admired in home catalogues and frequently went to see during open house events. The exterior was a homey, simplistic and mellow pastel yellow, with snow white lining the windows and doorframes and railings. A small garden of flowers surrounded the front yard of the house, and a luxurious backyard hid behind the prestigious house.

Quietly unlocking the grand front door to her house, Mikan swung it open with care and allowed herself into the house. After taking off her sunglasses, she immediately found herself standing face-to-face with her trusty maid, Shizuka.

Shizuka was a middle-aged woman who was far too kind and considerate for her own good. When Mikan had hired her for company—not service—after her grandfather had passed away a few months ago, she hadn't expected a workaholic maid who put her employer's wellbeing over everything, including herself. However, Mikan had to admit that Shizuka was excellent company, and her caring nature made her feel like a part of her family already. Something like a mother to Mikan.

"Mikan-sama!" the purple-haired woman greeted welcomingly, breaking the brunette out of her thoughts momentarily. "How was your day?"

Mikan smiled and tilted her head in recognition. "It was fine, Shizuka."

"Good, good," the woman said with a soft nod. "Are you tired? Shall I go draw you a bath?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Shizuka." Mikan reached out and took hold of her hand in a thanking manner. The maid returned the gesture with a smile of her own, and squeezed the brunette's hand gently.

"Of course, my dear," she intoned quietly, "I care for you very much. I see you like my own daughter."

"Thank you, Shizuka," Mikan reiterated, stroking the older woman's soft hands. "You're one of the closest people I have to family."

Shizuka smiled and retracted her hand from her mistress's. "Ah!" she exclaimed out of the blue, as if remembering something important. "Hoshi is in your room right now, sleeping. The poor little kitten's exhausted himself today with all the playing," she informed gleefully.

"Haha, alright."

"Then now I will go draw your bath, Mikan-sama." The woman scurried away in an instant.

Now alone, Mikan sighed and begin strutting through her house after toeing off her flats and hanging her scarf on the clothes rack by the door. The tiles of her floor felt cool beneath her bare feet as she padded ephemerally across the vast space.

Unlike Hotaru's, Mikan's house was colorful—themed based on a color palette, and not only limited to black and white. The interior of her house was based on pastel colors, and every inch of the house was decorated with intricate, flowery designs. The colors varied from sky blue, to forest green—an unusual combination, perhaps, but to Mikan it was perfect. It had a modern sense to it, and was 'coolly' designed.

The interior was elaborate, as well.

In front of the grand front door was a big living room—complete with a glass coffee table, leather couch sets, a grand piano, and a flat-screen TV. Then, behind it, was the doorway to the kitchen—Shizuka's _sanctuary—_and next to that, a dining table. A few glass shelves stood to the side of that, for showcasing any awards and precious items she possessed. These things were all on the ground floor. A majestic staircase to the side of the living room cut right up, leading to the second floor where the hallways with the bedrooms, bathrooms, and Mikan's personal study office were.

Mikan made her way to the second floor, into her bedroom. Sure enough, a tiny bundle of fur lay in the center of her queen-sized bed, curled up and unmoving, despite her entrance just now. Emitting a low chuckle, she sauntered over to her bed and sad down lightly on the edge, smiling at the endearing sight of her pet—a white kitten, with a star-like black spot on the ridge of his nose (hence his name).

"Oh, Hoshi…" she crooned sweetly, affectionately rubbing one of the kitten's ears between her index finger and thumb. For a moment, she was so entranced by the slumbering animal, she forgot all about her troubles and anxiety about tomorrow. Momentarily, all thoughts about meeting a president and possibilities of said president being a certain _someone _left her mind.

Until—

"_Mikan-sama!" _Shizuka called from the bathroom next door. _"Your bath is ready! Take it quickly and I will cook dinner for you so you can rest early for any plans tomorrow!"_

Ah. Right. She just remembered everything again. Tomorrow; plans with Hotaru—whether she liked it or not.

Exhaling her breath in the form of a sigh, the brunette lazily got up to her feet and walked to the bathroom. She decided there was nothing she could do to quell the nervousness, really. All she could do was take a long bath, eat, relax, and sleep for the night, hoping for the best tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>author's note: <strong>after nearly a month, here is the first chapter! i hope it wasn't too boring. the first couple chapters are going to be a set-up, i suppose. but here, i've laid out an idea of the relationship between hotaru. and GASP. who is the mysterious president of ruby productions! i think you know. (wink wink)

**beta: **i'm currently looking for a beta! if you are interested, please PM me or leave a review.

**everyone who has read this chapter, please leave a review. **i am interested in what you think of it so far, and i would not like to write blinded-ly without opinions. and i slaved for hours putting this chapter of over three thousand words together; i think it's pretty fair for you to write a couple of sentences/words to tell me what you think, yeah? thanks for reading! (:


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